


I Roll, and I Roll, 'til I Change My Luck

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bellagio - Freeform, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Harry, Champagne, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Drunk Draco Malfoy, Drunk Harry, Drunk Sex, Elvis - Freeform, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Gambling, Grinding, Las Vegas, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Really it's just super fluffy, Riding, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, UST, celine dion - Freeform, top!draco, with the tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: “Vegas isn’t too bad,” Theo grinned, “if you use magic to win.”“This should be fun, Potter,” Draco murmured, leaning his head close to Harry’s ear right as Harry took a gulp from his pint. Harry could feel the heat from his lips, and he wondered how much warmer it would feel with Draco’s lips against his ears, his neck…In this story, Harry, Draco, and their motley crew of Slytherins and Gryffindors, take on Las Vegas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So much love to [LeontinaBowie/Leontina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina) for creating this prompt: The Slytherins and Gryffindors take a trip to Las Vegas...what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Special shoutout to my beta, Rachael. Thank you for taking a break from your ants and insects and labs and chemistry and puppies to help me with this. :)
> 
> Apparently the fountains by the Bellagio Casino don't have a walk-way directly in front of them, but for the sake of this story, let's just pretend that everything is geographically accurate. It's fiction!
> 
> Title taken from One Direction's "Fireproof" because when I'm not thinking about this Harry falling in love, I'm thinking of the other one.
> 
> Disclaimer that JK Rowling owns these characters.

Harry blamed Theodore Nott for this whole thing. 

“My American cousin had his stag night in Las Vegas,” Theo had mentioned, three months earlier during their weekly post-quidditch drink-up. Harry slid onto the barstool, his thighs burning. Although their team was recreational, Harry played as if the Nifflers were Puddlemere United, his stubborn competitiveness refusing to bow down. He set his pint on the bar and glanced at the Niffler’s alternate seeker. He tried to pretend like he didn’t care about his opinion, although his eyes inevitably searched for his, in any conversation. 

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Everything I have ever heard about that place is horrible.”

Harry nodded in agreement, and he caught Draco’s satisfied grin out of the corner of his eye. Draco shifted closer, their shoulders touching. “Positively naff,” Harry added, leaning slightly into him. 

Draco didn’t lean away. Harry reminded himself to breathe. 

“Vegas isn’t too bad,” Theo grinned, “if you use magic to win.”

Goyle began nodding his head emphatically. “Count me in, then, lads,” he exclaimed loudly, his voice carrying over the din of the pub. 

“What do you think, Zabini?” Ron asked, looking across the table to Blaise, who sat quietly sipping his firewhisky. 

“It’s not really my place to say, though, is it?” Blaise replied. 

“But it’s your stag night!” Theo chimed in. 

The corners of Blaise’s lips curled. “Precisely why I shouldn’t have anything to do with the planning,” he explained. “Surprise me, gentlemen. I trust you.”

“This should be fun, Potter,” Draco murmured, leaning his head close to Harry’s ear right as Harry took a gulp from his pint. Harry could feel the heat from his lips, and he wondered how much warmer it would feel with Draco’s lips against his ears, his neck… 

Choking just a bit, Harry nodded before furrowing his brows. “That is, if I’m invited?” 

“Of course you are!” Blaise replied.

“A whole weekend with you lot? I don’t know,” Ron quipped. 

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Ron, you are aware that I’m marrying your sister, right?” 

Harry laughed as Ron made fake vomiting noises into his pint glass. 

“Let’s invite the whole team,” Marcus Flint suggested, glancing at Oliver Wood. Harry looked away, grinning at their poor attempt at hiding their relationship from the rest of the team. He would’ve laughed at how ridiculous Marcus looked as he pined over Oliver, but then his hypocrisy would’ve slapped him in his face. 

“Excellent idea,” Theo exclaimed, raising his glass. “That’s done then. The Nifflers take on Las Vegas!”

That night, Harry had gotten stupidly drunk on too many pints. He vaguely remembered staring too hard at Draco’s hands, his neck, his mouth, his eyes. He had developed a bad habit of sidling too close, of finding any reason to feel him under his fingertips. Though the night was foggy, he remembered Draco’s face close to his, of Draco’s lips quirking upwards when Harry ran his hands up and down his chest. 

“Just want to know what you feel like,” Harry had mumbled. Draco hadn’t said anything in reply, only moving closer when Harry began to pull away. 

He and Ron had stumbled wildly back to the flat they shared with Hermione, and although they had woken up the next morning with raging hangovers, they were otherwise unharmed. 

Three months later, when he woke up naked in his Las Vegas hotel room, Harry had wished that a hangover was the worst of his concerns. 

His hands fumbled as they searched for his glasses. Squinting, he sat up and opened his eyes slowly. His eyes grew wide as they stared down the length of Draco Malfoy’s _very naked_ body. His breath caught in his throat as he saw how the streaming sunlight passed through the crystals of the chandelier above, painting Draco’s bare skin with rainbows. 

“Beautiful- just like I thought he’d be,” Harry thought. But at that moment, he noticed a piece of paper resting on the bedside table. 

If his hangover did not make him want to run to the bathroom, the words on the paper certainly did. 

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, his hands shaking. 

“Hmm?” Draco stirred, stretching his (very naked) body like a cat. 

“Malfoy,” Harry said, anxiously. “Malfoy, wake up.” 

“It’s too bright in here, Potter,” Draco groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. 

“We fucked up,” Harry cried, holding his head in his hands. 

“Merlin, we slept together,” Draco replied, waving his hand dismissively. “It was bound to happen eventual-”

“We’re married.”

Draco’s hand froze midair. “Pardon?”

“We…we must’ve gotten married. Certificate…. I found this-” Harry stammered. 

Draco sat up, and for the first time that morning, they locked eyes. Wordlessly, Harry handed him the certificate. Harry had not seen sheer unadulterated panic wash across Draco’s face since the war. Harry’s eyes searched his in a silent plea for help. Draco’s eyes bore into him in response. Harry knew from the way Draco seemed to be studying his face, his brows furrowed in concentration, that he was playing out the outcomes to the different decisions they could make. 

Draco sighed heavily as he sat up straight and nodded his head. 

“We’ll get an annulment,” he said with authority. He quickly stood up, pulling on his underwear before walking to the bathroom and turning on the shower. “Get dressed, Potter. We have to take a trip down to City Hall.”

Harry looked around the disheveled hotel room for his clothes. He pulled his boxers on before reaching down for his button-up. From the bathroom, Draco continued speaking, the running water muffling his voice. 

“The judge will have to grant us the annulment. Clearly, we were not of sound mind.” 

“True. I don’t remember much past getting kicked out of that one casino-”

“I _warned_ Zabini to stop transfiguring his cards!”

“Those guards were so confused how he was winning so much,” Harry smiled, shaking his head. Reminiscing with Draco almost helped him forget about their predicament. 

“They were absolutely flummoxed,” Draco replied, as the scent of vanilla and orchid shampoo wafted out the bathroom. “Potter?”

“Malfoy?” Harry answered, searching for his shoes. 

“Come shower with me? Before this is all over?” Draco asked, his head sticking out from behind the shower. Harry had expected his face to be smug, but he hadn’t expected the frown on his face, his eyes still searching for an answer.

“I’m, er…” he began, glancing at his rumpled shirt. 

“Already dressed,” Draco appraised. He sighed as his eyes passed over Harry’s body. “It’s a pity I can’t remember anything from last night.”

“I don’t remember anything either,” Harry admitted.

Draco’s mouth formed a thin line. “Nothing to miss then.”

Harry ignored the twist in his chest and just nodded. “Hurry up, Malfoy. Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

 

\-- 

Las Vegas was bright. The thousands of neon and flashing lights made Harry squint his eyes, although the sky was dark with night. Everywhere they walked, men shoved flyers and business cards in their faces. 

“Bachelor parties welcome!” one of the men exclaimed. 

Harry peered down at the card in his hands. A naked woman laid on a bed in what Harry thought looked more uncomfortable than it did sexy. Harry half-expected her to move, temporarily forgetting that it was a muggle photograph. 

“Uh, no thank you,” Harry replied. He tried to give the card back to no avail. 

“Not your type, either, Potter?” 

Harry felt Draco’s arm wrap around his shoulder as he dragged him away. The lights, the glasses of firewhisky, the shots of vodka, and bottles of beer they imbibed in Blaise’s suite made Harry feel dizzy and ignited. Draco’s arm pulling him closer didn’t help. 

“No,” Harry responded, staring down at the dip in Draco’s collarbones.

Draco’s lips parted. “No?”

“No,” Harry replied. He heard Dean call out to them, telling them to hurry up. Harry grinned and began walking. “C’mon, Malfoy. I’m feeling lucky tonight!” 

Draco smirked. “I bet you are.”

They, along with the rest of the Niffler Quidditch Club, strolled into the Bellagio. 

“Well, gentleman, I heard that this is the place to win big in poker,” Blaise announced, rubbing his hands together.

“What’re you going to do?” Harry asked, eyeing the ubiquitous security cameras and guards.

“Blaise figured out how to transfigure his cards with wandless magic,” Oliver whispered, a devilish smile on his face. 

“And if you’re caught?” Ron cautioned. Harry smiled at the tension between Ron and his soon-to-be brother-in-law. They were friends now, but the vestiges of their boyhood antipathy lingered. 

A mischievous smile grew on Blaise’s handsome face. “Nothing a confundus charm can’t handle.”

“I don’t know about this, guys,” Neville said, sheepishly.

“You’re free to go off on your own then, Longbottom,” Draco drawled. “I heard the slot machines are a bit more friendly to those averse to risk.”

Neville clenched his jaw and raised his chin in defiance. “You know what, Malfoy? I think I will join you all at the poker tables!”

Dean clapped. “‘Atta boy, Nev!” 

“Enough standing around and talking. Let’s make some money, boys!” Theo proclaimed. 

\--

Harry had lost track of time in the windowless room, but he knew that in relatively no time, Draco had won over $3000. Although he had little interest in gambling, he enjoyed watching Draco skillfully beat the other players at the table, as well as the continuously-flowing drinks that the casino’s patrons received. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw guards escorting Blaise and Theo out of the room. Touching the small of Draco’s back, he leaned closer to alert him. “Be careful. Blaise and Theo were discovered,” he warned. 

Draco leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Harry’s ear. “I have nothing to hide.”

“You mean, you’re not-”

“Not since the first round,” Draco smirked. “It seems like you’re my lucky charm.”

Harry felt the breath leave his lungs, and as he saw Draco lay his cards down and win again, he decided that the feeling was too good to ignore any longer. 

“Wanna get out of here?” he whispered, his hand lingering on Draco’s waist. 

Draco peered at him, his eyes darkening. “But I’m winning, Potter,” he protested weakly, his grey eyes flickering towards his lips. 

“That doesn’t have to stop,” Harry said, his eyes mirroring Draco’s as they gazed up from his Adam’s apple to his mouth. 

Wordlessly, Draco nodded. He turned towards the poker dealer to inform her that he was leaving. He collected his chips in plastic bucket and began walking. 

“Coming, Harry?” Draco asked, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hope so,” Harry whispered under his breath, as he nodded. 

Draco quickly exchanged his chips in for cash. Harry couldn’t believe the amount of cash that Draco had on hand, but he tried to school his features to resemble Draco’s stoic and unaffected gaze. 

“That was exciting,” Harry exclaimed. “What’ll you do with all that cash?”

“Save it, probably,” Draco shrugged. “Not like I need it much.” 

“Which is exactly why you should splurge!” Harry insisted. 

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “On what, exactly? Souvenirs?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Champagne! Caviar! Strippers! I don’t know,” he shrugged. 

Draco laughed and gazed at Harry, and maybe Harry was drunk, but he could almost feel a fondness emanating from his smile. “I’m sure I’ll think of something, Potter,” he said, nudging him gently. 

As they walked towards the lobby of the casino, Harry felt the brush of Draco’s hand against his. Feeling lucky, he slowly entwined their fingers, his eyes trained straight ahead the whole time. Draco’s hand was warm, his palms surprisingly calloused. Harry couldn’t help but picture his broom grip as they played quidditch. The lights and the sounds combined with the smell of booze and smoke from the casino and the feel of Draco’s hand in his, and suddenly, it was all too much for Harry.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested, his breaths shortening. 

“Potter, are you alright?” Draco asked, grabbing hold of Harry’s other hand in concern. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine. It’s all just… a lot,” he admitted. 

The truth was, Harry had dreamed about Draco, had pictured his hands and his mouth, had imagined his voice murmuring low in his ear, too many times to keep count. He had prided himself on maintaining some semblance of control when he was near, falling back on the familiarity of mean jabs and sarcasm to keep his distance. He had dated other men, to no avail-- no one measured up to what he dreamed it would be like with Draco. 

And now, although he fully intended on being in control of this pursuit, it seemed that Draco had turned the tables on him. Harry was the prey all along. He didn’t mind. He had spent the first eighteen years of his life being brave, but when it came to Draco, he wanted to just let himself unfold in surrender. 

Draco brushed some fringe off of Harry’s forehead. “You’re cute when you’re drunk, Potter,” he said quietly. 

Harry shook his head. “No, ‘m not!” he replied defensively. 

“No, you’re not cute, or no, you’re not drunk?” Draco smiled. 

“I’m not drunk… at least, not as much as I was when we first got here,” Harry explained. 

“Although I think we're still both bombed out of our minds, I propose we go to a bar,” Draco said, dragging him out the casino doors. 

The air outside was cooler, as desert nights tend to be. The sound of the fountains outside of the casino soothed Harry’s nerves, although he tried not to focus on the way Draco’s thumb rubbed the back of his hand in slow circles. 

When the water slowly changed colours, a large smile grew on Draco’s face as his eyes grew wide. 

“Impressive,” Draco breathed. “Muggle magic.” 

Harry elbowed him. “I’m pretty sure they just call it ‘technology’ and ‘science.’” 

“Call it whatever,” Draco scoffed. “I think it’s pretty.” 

“I think you’re pretty,” Harry replied, as his face turned red. 

Draco paused for a beat, his lips parting slightly, before he rolled his eyes. He pulled Harry closer by his waist, his other hand holding him. They began swaying as if dancing, and Harry let his head fall to Draco’s shoulder. 

“Showering me with compliments won’t get you into my pants any sooner, Potter,” Draco purred.

“I can wait,” Harry replied, his mouth taking on a mind of its own, apparently. He wanted Draco more than anyone, or anything, but he liked dancing with him to some inaudible song just as much. 

They swayed there, as the fountain turned from white to blue to green to purple to pink. Draco stared at the water, his smile open and wide. Harry was glad that the fountains are putting on their best show for Draco, and he wondered if there was a way to write the Bellagio to thank them for their impeccable timing. 

“You look happy,” Harry said, his thumb grazing the back of Draco’s hand as they continued to sway to their inaudible song.

Draco glanced at him, his eyes crinkling with his smile. “I am.” 

“Because of the muggle magic?” 

His gaze softened as he nosed Harry’s forehead. “And because of you,” he murmured. He looked up to see that they stood in front of a bar, where the pulse of a heavy bass floated out of its open doors. 

“Let me buy you a drink with my prize money,” he offered, gesturing towards the bar. 

“I might be a cheap date, Malfoy,” Harry said, hiccuping. “Feeling great as it is.” 

“Let’s keep it going then,” Draco replied, tugging Harry’s hand as they approached the entrance.

They found a spot at the crowded bar, where Draco promptly ordered a bottle of the most expensive champagne. After the bartender poured their first glass, Draco raised a toast. 

“To splurges,” he proclaimed, as their glasses clinked together. 

The champagne was fizzy and refreshing as it slid down Harry’s throat. “This is good,” he grinned. 

Draco began to top off his glass. “Well, drink up, darling,” he said. “We’re celebrating!”

“Celebrating?” the bartender gushed. “Did you just come from the chapel down the street?” 

Harry’s jaw dropped as he stammered, but Draco’s response came easily. 

“We finally did it!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Harry. “Play along,” he whispered, his lips cold with champagne against Harry’s ear. 

“Yeah,” Harry added, sheepishly. “What a surprise!” 

“Well, congratulations! Next drink’s on me,” the bartender said, winking at them as she walked away. 

Harry laughed weakly as he raised his glass. 

“So, Mr. Malfoy, what shall we do on our wedding night?” Draco murmured, refilling his glass. 

“I think I’m going to need to be a lot drunker if you expect me to answer to Mr. Malfoy!” Harry retorted, although he felt his grin grow wider. Throwing his head back, he swallowed the contents of the glass in one go. Setting the glass down on the bar, he caught Draco staring at him. Despite the dim lighting of the bar, his eyes seemed to have grown darker. 

“What would you prefer I call you, then?” he asked, his lips brushing against Harry’s cheek. Harry could feel the heat from his body, as the crowd of the bar pushed them closer together. 

“Don’t care,” he said absentmindedly. “Call me whatever.” 

“Okay then,” Draco smirked as he leaned closer, “... _baby_.” 

Harry felt the heat pool in his groin, and a rush of relief flooded through him as the bartender brought over shots of whiskey. 

“For the newlyweds-- it’s on the house,” she said, pushing the glasses towards them. 

“Cheers,” Harry replied, taking the shot in his hand. He felt heavy with drink already, but he welcomed the whiskey as an alternate explanation for the heat pulsing through his body. 

Draco locked eyes with him as he threw back his shot. Harry, quite frankly, was impressed with his ability to remain unaffected by the burn. It wasn’t helping his too-tight-jeans situation. He decided to pour them another glass of champagne. 

“Forget the glasses, Potter,” Draco instructed. “Let’s dance!”

Before he could protest, Draco grabbed the bottle and tugged Harry towards the dancefloor. 

“I don’t dance, Malfoy!” Harry protested.

“Any husband of mine will have to learn!”

Draco pulled him closer with one hand while he gripped the neck of the champagne bottle in the other. He slid one leg between Harry’s. With his grip so tight on Harry’s hips, every movement was a spark. 

“You know, we’re not _actually_ married,” Harry breathed, looking up at Draco, dazedly. The champagne bubbles had gone to his head. 

“Just let me have this,” Draco whispered, the corners of his lips turning downwards slightly. “Let me pretend, for a moment.”

Before Harry could ask him what he meant, Draco drank straight from the bottle. Wordlessly, he offered the bottle to Harry. When Harry nodded, Draco brought the bottle to his lips. Harry opened his mouth slightly, the glass bumping against his bottom lip. As he gulped it down, he could feel Draco’s length against his leg. Tilting his head back down, he felt a rivulet of champagne roll down his jaw. Draco brushed his thumb against it and lifted it to Harry’s mouth. Harry closed his eyes and willed himself to not burst into flames right then and there as he took the tip of Draco’s thumb into his mouth. 

With a shuddered breath, Draco pulled Harry close to him, their lips a breath apart. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

Harry nodded, pulling him by the hand off of the dancefloor. 

Outside, water burst up from the fountains, and Draco’s hand was still entwined in Harry’s, and he knew with more accuracy just what Draco might feel like against him- _inside_ of him, and the thought of being married didn’t sound terrifying, it just sounded right, and before he knew it, Harry was laughing.

“Potter,” Draco observed, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “You’re laughing.” 

Harry clutched his stomach as he fell into a fit of giggles. 

“This... I can’t believe...” Harry gasped, in between laughs.

“What are you saying?” Draco urged, as a laugh escaped his own lips. 

“I like you!” Harry marveled, eyes wide as his hands flew to his head. 

Draco shook his head in confusion. “I like you too, Harry.”

“No, like- I _really_ like you,” Harry confessed. 

Draco took Harry’s hands in his. “I _really_ like you too,” Draco repeated, that same fond look on his face. Harry felt certain that’s what it was, this time. 

“Let’s get married,” he blurted out. In the five seconds it took for Draco to respond, Harry wished desperately that the nice bartender from the club would interrupt them and pour out more shots, or maybe just give them the whole damn bottle so that Harry could drink his misery and embarrassment away. 

But then, suddenly, he noticed Draco’s head moving. Up and down. As in…

“Yes?” Harry asked, brows furrowing. “Are you saying yes?”

“Yes,” Draco answered, his eyes wide as he smiled again. “I’ve lost my mind, I think, but yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and hoisted him up. “You’re saying yes?” he hooted. 

“Yes, Potter! Now, put me down before I change my mind!” Draco chided, swatting at Harry’s bum. 

When the two of them had both feet planted firmly on the ground, Harry glanced down the sidewalk of the strip. “The bartender said there’s a chapel somewhere around here.” 

“I think those tacky neon lights at the corner is where we’re heading,” Draco giggled into Harry’s shoulder as he pointed towards a small building down the street. Tugging Harry by the hand, he began running. 

They burst through the doors of the chapel, where they were met with an Elvis impersonator. 

“I want to marry him,” Harry announced, looking proudly at Draco. 

“We want to get married,” Draco confirmed as he nodded his head. His cheeks were blushed pink as he caught his breath. Harry was distracted momentarily by the urge to cover his blushing groom’s face in kisses when he realised-

“Draco,” he began, “we’ve never actually kissed.” 

This confession felt utterly chaste when he remembered how they had ground their hips together, how he had an indecently accurate estimate of just how big Draco was, how he could still taste Draco’s skin on his tongue. 

“Let’s save it for after we exchange vows, yeah?” Draco suggested.

Harry thought Draco’s suggestion was, frankly, romantic, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid from crying. Draco never ceased to surprise him with his ability to prove Harry wrong. 

After taking a short trip to the Las Vegas Marriage Bureau, which conveniently was located only a few doors down, they returned with their marriage license in hand. 

“Still want to do this?” Draco asked, biting his lip as he waited for Harry’s response. 

Harry grabbed his hands, already feeling more at ease with just that small contact. He buried his face in Draco’s chest in an effort to keep from kissing him. “Yeah. Let’s do this.” 

They decided to walk down the aisle together, hand in hand as an old lady played “Can’t Help Falling in Love” on an equally-ancient organ. Standing at the top of the aisle in a outfit that Harry could only describe as equal parts “priest-like” and “tacky” was an Elvis impersonator. 

The ceremony flew by in a blur. Harry and Draco recited the standard vows to love and cherish each other in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, til death did them ‘part. Harry might have choked back an unexpected tear, and Draco’s voice wavered but his eyes never looked brighter. 

“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss!” Elvis announced, clapping his hands. 

Gone was the loud music of the club, the champagne, the thrill of the poker win. Now, it was just Harry and Draco. Of all the things they had done that night, this had felt the most vulnerable… the most honest. Harry was still dizzy drunk, but he felt the moment’s gravity with sudden clarity. 

Harry glanced up at Draco, his face solemn. He slowly brought his face closer to Draco’s, and when they were only inches apart, he nudged Draco’s nose gently. As a smile spread on both of their faces, Harry closed the distance and kissed him softly. 

Harry had thought Draco’s lips would taste like whisky or wine, or leather or money, or something expensive and high-maintenance, but instead, Draco’s lips tasted sweet as the champagne they had shared earlier, like caramel and something inherently familiar and _known_ to Harry. 

Draco had pulled Harry up against him, his hands gently cupping his face. As they came up for air, Draco sighed contentedly. 

“I’ve wanted to do that…” he whispered, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth, “.... for so long.” 

“You can keep doing that forever, if you want,” Harry said, shyly, as if they hadn’t just exchanged marriage vows. 

“Shall we go back to the hotel?” Draco asked, biting his lip again the way he did after they got their marriage license. Harry realised that this was Draco’s tell-- Mr. Boasting Resting-Bored-Face himself was nervous.

Harry peppered Draco’s still-pink cheeks with kisses the way he had wanted to earlier. “Let’s go,” he whispered. 

Before they left, they made sure to take a few photos with Elvis underneath an flowery archway and outdoor gazebo and drink another glass of complimentary champagne. 

Harry felt like he could float away if not for the steady weight of Draco’s hand in his as they walked back to their hotel. Now that they had their first kiss out of the way, he stopped every few steps to kiss Draco again. It was a pleasant reminder of just how nice kissing Draco was. 

“You’re a sap,” Draco teased, kissing Harry’s scar. 

“Get used to it, Malfoy,” Harry shot back as they resumed their walking. “I hope the rest of the lads are doing alright,” he wondered aloud, as their hotel finally came into view.

“You’re really going to worry about them instead of spending all your mental energy on how we’re about to have the shags of our lives on our wedding night?” Draco asked, pulling Harry close to him. He kissed him again, his tongue brushing against Harry’s, sending a jolt and a firm reminder to Harry’s cock what his focus should really be. Harry bit back a groan, pushing him away in self-defense.

“This feels like the longest walk of my life,” Harry complained, taking longer strides. 

“Patience, baby,” Draco said lowly in Harry’s ear, hugging him from behind. Pushing his hips into Harry ever so slightly, he kissed the back of his neck. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed. “Not helping,” he whimpered. His eyes flew open when Draco slapped his bum. 

“I’ll race you!” Draco shouted over his shoulder as he broke into a sprint. 

“You little shit!” Harry yelped, running quickly after his husband. His mouth flopped into a goofy grin as he repeated that thought in his mind, over and over again.

_My husband, my husband, my husband…_

And then, suddenly, they were in the elevator of their hotel, and Draco had Harry pressed up against the wall, his lips trailing desperately from Harry’s lips to his neck. 

“Draco, there are people-” Harry gasped, fighting to keep his eyes open so as not to appear too lascivious for the poor tourists sharing their tiny space, “- tourists… in the elevator…”

“We’re newlyweds, see,” Draco explained matter-of-factly, waving their marriage certificate in the air. “We’re just very happy right now.” 

One of the tourists, a mild-looking lady wearing a Celine Dion concert t-shirt, nodded and covered her daughter’s eyes with her hands. 

“Um...Congratulations,” she said, offering a polite smile before averting her eyes. 

“Cheers!” Harry exclaimed, before pulling Draco off the elevator as they reached their floor. 

“I swear, if Weasley is in that room-” Draco began. 

“I’ll kick him out. Or lock him in the bathroom,” Harry completed the thought easily, as if they had been married for years and not minutes. 

They stumbled into the hotel room to find it empty. With a woot, Harry grabbed Draco and kissed him senseless before breaking apart to let out another laugh. 

“We could’ve just apparated here,” Harry giggled. “We’re the stupidest wizards of our time.”

“Oh, but didn’t you just love the build-up of sexual tension?” Draco remarked, pulling his wand out from his waistcoat. Wordlessly, Draco locked the hotel door and dimmed the hotel lights. Harry felt silencing wards in the air around him as his body began to tingle. He raised his eyebrow in a silent question. 

“Cleansing charms,” Draco said quietly. His deft fingers began unbuttoning Harry’s shirt before moving on to his belt and trousers.

“I want to lick every part of you, Potter. I want you to know that you are mine,” he announced, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Harry could hardly breathe, let alone respond. 

“Do you want that too?” Draco asked, his lips ghosting over Harry’s collarbones as he kissed his chest and ventured lower and lower. Harry’s lips parted and he fought back the urge to moan when he felt Draco’s breath against his cock. 

“Harry,” Draco demanded, “Answer me.” 

“Yeah,” Harry panted. “Want that.” 

He admitted to himself a long time ago that in all his fantasies about Draco, he was the one pleading and begging, the one that had given up all control. Looking down at Draco, who peered up at him, his grey eyes nearly black with desire, Harry wanted to give him the world. 

Draco placed a kiss on Harry’s hipbone before nuzzling his nose into the hair at the base of Harry’s cock. 

“Get on the bed, Harry,” he ordered. Without question, Harry laid down, his knees falling to the sides on instinct. Draco crawled up the bed before settling between Harry’s legs. Closing his eyes, he licked a stripe up the underside of his cock before his lips closed over the tip.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, struggling to keep his knees from buckling as Draco began bobbing his head up and down his length. Draco paused for a moment, but before Harry could protest, he felt Draco’s tongue lick into his hole. 

“Holy--” Harry stammered. 

“Do you like when I do that?” Draco asked before he swirled his tongue again. 

“Yes… jesus, fuck, don’t stop,” Harry moaned, clutching the sheets. 

Draco continued to open Harry up with his tongue, adding one finger at a time slowly. His other hand continued to stroke Harry’s length, and if Harry thought the neon and the slot machines, the crowds of people milling around, the smoke, and the alcohol had been too much, he was wrong. 

He felt the familiar tightening in his balls, as he tried to pull Draco off of him. “Not yet,” he gasped. 

“I wasn’t done,” Draco whined, pumping Harry’s cock with his hand, as his other hand undid the buttons on his shirt. In a flash, Draco returned his mouth to Harry’s cock, his other fingers fucking into Harry, brushing over his prostate. 

“Shit, Draco, I’m not gonna last-”

Draco moaned, and Harry could swear that he was smirking at him, cock-in-his-mouth be damned, as he stared up at him, his grey eyes glinting mischievously. 

“I’m coming,” Harry whimpered, and it was bright lights and champagne bubbles, and Draco’s eyes and his mouth, and when he looked down, Draco was wiping at his mouth, smiling smugly. 

Growling, Harry grabbed Draco’s wrists. He pulled him up before throwing him onto the bed. Pushing his hips down, Harry mouthed at Draco’s erection through his pants. 

“Off… take these off,” Harry instructed, even as he fumbled with Draco’s belt with his own hands. Before Draco’s trousers and boxers reached his knees, Harry took the tip of Draco into his mouth. 

As the salty-bitter taste hit his tongue, he moaned and looked up at Draco, whose chest heaved with each breath. He squeezed his eyes shut as he took in more and more of him, the hot length heavy on his tongue. He could hear Draco’s breaths and whimpers, his pleas of “more” and “don’t stop.” 

Determinedly, Harry relaxed his jaw and began to sink his mouth further onto Draco’s cock down to the base. 

“Fuck, that’s so good,” Draco moaned, his hands gripping Harry’s hair. “I want to fuck your face… can I fuck your face, baby?” 

Harry moaned his assent, raising his head to lick up the length of his cock. 

“Hold still,” Draco whispered, as he began to pump his hips up into Harry’s mouth. More and more saliva fell from Harry’s mouth as he gagged on Draco’s thick cock, and he could feel his eyes tear up. He squeezed his own erection to keep from coming a second time. Harry felt obscene, and he felt dirty and used, but most importantly, he felt good, knowing that he was the reason Draco was shouting out curses and grabbing helplessly at the sheets and at his hair. 

“I’m close-” Draco gasped, his body slick with sweat.

Harry popped off of his cock and slid up Draco’s body. His hand replaced his mouth as he began jerking him off at a furious pace. Draco moaned into him, as Harry held him close and kissed him.

“Harry,” Draco cried as he came all over his stomach and chest. 

They kissed again, slowly, this time. Harry pulled Draco closer to him, not bothering to clean up the slick-sweat-sticky mess on Draco’s chest. He dusted kisses over Draco’s cheekbones, his eyelids, his temples and jawbone. 

“Give me a minute, and we’ll have another go… wanna fuck you,” Draco mumbled, his lanky limbs boneless as he snuggled up against Harry’s side. He nuzzled Harry’s neck before kissing it. 

At Draco’s suggestion of having another round, Harry raised his brows into his hairline. He felt knackered as the room began to spin, and from the way that Draco’s eyelids blinked heavily, he ventured to guess that Draco would be asleep soon too. 

“Tomorrow, love,” Harry murmured, kissing Draco’s hair. He pulled the sheet up over their bodies and turned off the lights. He reached for Draco’s hand and fell asleep. 

\--

The sun beat down on them with a brutality that only made Harry resent his headache even more. Beside him, Draco walked quietly, his hands at his side. Harry fought the urge to hold his hand. With a twist in his chest, he could remember what it had felt like to hold his hand, but the memory was like a ghost. The more he chased it, the faster it seemed to fade. 

As they walked down the strip, the fountains at the Bellagio burst upwards into the sky. 

“That’s nice,” Draco said softly, staring at the fountains. 

Harry allowed himself to stare at Draco and the quiet wonder in his eyes as he stared at the fountains. “Yeah, you called it ‘muggle magic’ last night,” he replied. 

Draco turned sharply towards him. “I thought you didn’t remember anything.” 

Harry shrugged. “It’s coming back. In moments, like photographs.”

“We went to a bar,” Draco recalled. He looked around before his gaze landed on the club from the night prior. “There,” he added, pointing towards the club. 

Harry remembered the champagne, the whisky, the dancing, the toasts to being newlyweds. He wondered if it was his imagination or his memory that could still feel Draco’s fingers on his hips.

He nodded and started walking, suddenly feeling terribly sad. He didn’t want to confuse his memories with his fantasies. The idea that he had known with certainty what being with Draco was like only to lose those moments to an alcohol-induced haze made the breath leave his lungs. 

“Potter,” Draco called, catching up to him. He grabbed his arm, and Harry stared at his hand on his bare skin. He wanted to know what it felt like the first time. He had known what it felt like, but he forgot. 

“C’mon, Malfoy. We’re almost there,” he muttered, shaking Draco’s hand off him. 

Draco’s face fell into a frown. With a sigh, he nodded. “Fine,” he said. 

They walked in silence into City Hall. 

“How may I help you?” the security guard asked. 

“We need an annulment,” Draco answered, holding the marriage certificate in his hands. 

“Take the elevators to the third floor and go down the hall. Last door to the right,” the guard directed them, without even looking up from his newspaper. Harry bit the inside of his lip when he realised how many disillusioned and disoriented couples this man probably saw. It hurt to think that he and Draco were just another regretful pair. 

They stood on opposite sides of the elevator. Draco stared determinedly at his shoes. His knuckles were white with the force with which they clutched their marriage certificate. 

Harry wondered if their night was just a result of too much alcohol, of too many endorphins flying through the air, a natural result of gambling and winning big. He wondered if it was just a one-night stand gone to the extreme, if they were only meant for a quick shag in the men’s room. For years now, they’ve flirted the line, their every interaction washed over with lust and want. 

However, marriage required more than lust, Harry realised, and maybe Draco just didn’t love him like that. He wasn’t even sure if he loved Draco… 

He knew he loved Draco’s honesty, his inability to fake kindness. He loved how Draco only wanted the best, how he knew what he wanted from life. He loved his smile, especially the ones that seemed reserved just for him, when they both laughed at the same thing or when they were fighting back the urge to roll their eyes at something stupid one of their mates said. He loved when Draco called him by his first name, or his last name, or whatever name he felt like, because he loved the sound of his voice calling out for him. 

Harry ignored the lump in his throat and took a chance to peek at Draco again.

Draco’s mouth was a thin line drawn into a frown, and his grey eyes were dim. Harry wondered if it was just his hangover, or if maybe Draco was as sad as he was.

“Las Vegas, huh?” Harry quipped, his voice sounding awkward and loud in the slow and clunky elevator. 

Draco nodded. “Yes, indeed.” 

The doors opened, and they began to walk down the hallway. Perhaps it was because Harry felt like their time was slipping through his fingers and because after years of longing, one night just wasn’t enough, but they arrived at the judge’s office in what felt like the blink of an eye. 

There was only one other couple in line. They stood awkwardly beside each other. Draco studied the plaques on the wall and the wooden fixtures that decorated the quiet room. Harry just kept staring at Draco, wanting to commit to memory these last moments. 

“Potter,” Draco said exasperatedly. “Stop staring at me.”

Harry felt a flare of anger rise into his chest. He didn’t understand how Draco could make this decision so easily. Sure, when they were both recovering from the shock of the marriage certificate on the hotel room floor, Harry thought that an annulment was the obvious solution, but now-

Now that his mind was shaking off the alcohol, he could recall Draco’s hands on his waist, how his lips tasted sweeter than he had expected, how his cheeks had flushed pink when they ran to the chapel. He remembered more, and now that he did, he didn’t know if he could act like he didn’t.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asked, his voice louder than expected. 

Draco clenched his jaw. “I remember _some_ things.”

“And you’re okay with just throwing it away?” 

“‘Throwing it away?’ Throwing _what_ away? A drunken night? A blowjob?” Draco hissed, his eyes shining. 

“It was more than that, and you know it!” Harry argued. “It was a start!” 

“A start of what, Potter? A-”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a firm voice interrupted. Harry looked to see the judge sitting at her table, her face annoyed and tired already. He tore the marriage certificate from Draco’s hands and walked up to the judge. 

“We want an annulment,” he announced, slamming the certificate on the table. 

“On what grounds?” she asked, glancing between the two of them. 

“We weren’t of sound mind. We were drunk,” Harry explained, clenching his jaw to keep his voice from shaking. He had made his argument, and Draco had shot it down. He was right. It had meant nothing. Sloppy blowjobs and too much to drink.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and Harry had to let this go. 

“You need to fill out the initial complaint form,” she instructed. “There are some extra forms on the wall right there.” 

Harry nodded firmly and began walking towards the wall of forms. Draco stood still in front of the table. 

“Malfoy, you need to fill this out with me,” Harry said, trying to calm his nerves as he began to fill out the forms. 

“Actually, sir, only one of you needs to file for the annulment to take place,” the judge corrected him. 

Harry felt his stomach drop as he realized that there was nothing to stop him from going through with it. He looked down just as a tear slipped from his eye. 

He was filling out his address in London and was about to ask Draco for his address, when he heard Draco call his name. 

“Harry…”

“What’s your address again?” he asked, trying to ignore the way Draco’s voice sounded. 

“Harry, stop-”

“I just need your address, and if you agree to sign this, the annulment will go through faster, and-”

When he looked up, Draco stood before him. 

“I don’t want… Harry, just… wait,” he pleaded, biting his lip. The familiarity of the image hit Harry in the gut. 

“I thought that this was nothing?” Harry countered, his voice barely a whisper. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing…with relationships,” Draco admitted, “I don’t know how to be happy.” He wiped his face quickly and stared at his shoes. “I wish I remembered all of last night, Harry, because the things I do remember… were the happiest moments of my life.” 

Harry stood up slowly, the form falling to the chair behind him. “What are you saying?”

“Don’t file the annulment,” Draco whispered.

“You want to stay married?” Harry asked, stepping closer to him. 

“Would it be that bad?” he shrugged, his hands brushing against Harry’s arm.

“Probably,” Harry laughed weakly, as he reached for Draco’s hands. “But it’d probably be really, really good too.”

“Probably,” he smiled. 

“Marry me, Draco?” Harry whispered, nudging their noses together. 

“Okay,” Draco breathed, bringing their lips together. 

Harry leaned into the kiss, pulling Draco closer as he grasped the back of his neck. Draco smiled as he pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on Harry’s mouth again before brushing his lips against his nose and his forehead. 

“Gentlemen, can we move on? There’s another couple waiting!” the judge called. 

Harry pulled Draco down for another kiss, giving the judge a thumbs up. 

“We should make new memories,” Harry suggested, his hands running down Draco’s back to cup his arse. 

“Potter, are you suggesting that we have a proper wedding night shag?” Draco asked. Harry could feel him hardening against his leg. 

“Why do you assume that I'm always talking about sex?” Harry scoffed. 

Draco feigned remorse. “Right, my apologies. Let's go sightseeing first. Hey, maybe we can catch that Celine Dion show!” 

“Fuck off,” Harry smiled fondly, kissing Draco’s cheek.

“Mm, that's what I thought,” he surmised, lifting his chin loftily.

“Let’s go,” Harry said, as he began to walk quickly down the hallway, Draco’s hand in his. Soon, they were running down the hallway, laughing as they raced towards the elevator. 

Harry pushed Draco against the elevator wall as he sucked down his neck. 

“I want you,” he breathed. “Everywhere.”

“You can have me, then,” Draco sighed, his head thrown back against the wall. 

The elevator door opened, and they stumbled out. Walking quickly out of the lobby, Draco slyly withdrew his wand from his pocket. Pulling Harry around to the side of the building, he apparated them into Harry’s hotel room. 

They staggered towards the bed as they furiously ripped their clothes off. 

“Merlin, Christ! Get a room!” a voice interrupted. 

Harry jumped back to see Ron, shielding his eyes with a pillow. 

“We’re _in_ a room, Weasley, what more could you ask from us?” Draco drawled, his pants halfway down his legs, his shirt ripped open. Harry could see his pale chest with its faint scars, and he thought that if Ron didn’t leave soon, he would say “fuck it” and jump Draco anyway. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. We were looking for you last night, when Neville ended up winning nearly 10 grand in poker! He used some spell, but he was smart with it, see-”

“Ron, you’re my best mate, but I need to make love to my husband now, so if you could leave-”

“Husband?” Ron squawked. “You got married?” 

“Yes, and we’re about to have hot newlywed sex, so please go!... Or not. We’re going to get started either way,” Draco warned as he pushed Harry onto the bed and began to pull off his trousers. He stepped out of his own trousers and tossed his shirt to the side. 

“Point taken!” Ron shouted, as he ran out of the room. 

“I thought he’d never leave,” Draco groaned, mouthing down Harry’s body. He hooked his thumbs under his pants and tossed them to the side. Draco searched amongst the scattered clothes on the floor for his wand. 

“Use mine-- bedside table,” Harry urged. Seamlessly, Draco held Harry’s wand in his hands and whispered cleansing and preparation charms before he cast a muffliato and locked the doors. 

Draco began to work his tongue over Harry’s hole, slowly easing one, two, three fingers into him. A memory of the previous night flashed through his mind, as he remembered Draco’s mouth on him, the feel of Draco’s hands and tongue working him to a frenzy. He smiled as he brought his focus back to the moment. This was a new memory-- This was real. 

He ran his hands over Draco’s shoulders, his white-blonde hair gleaming in the bright hotel room. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and Harry wanted him, everywhere, and he wanted him now. 

“I’m ready,” he said, squeezing his already-leaking cock. Draco peered up at him, his brow raised. Slowly, he crawled up the length of Harry’s naked body, rutting his still-clothed erection against Harry’s. 

“Too many clothes,” Harry whined. “Get these off.”

Draco laughed against Harry’s chest, which he was currently covering with kisses. He closed his lips over Harry’s nipple, his tongue not helping matters much. Grunting, Harry shoved his hand underneath the waistband of Draco’s underwear. He moaned when he felt the slickness covering the tip of Draco’s full erection. 

“How do you want me, Draco?” he whispered, stroking him slowly. 

“I want you wrecked,” Draco panted. “I want to fill you with my cock, my come.”

Harry bit Draco’s bottom lip as he shoved his underwear down. Hitching his hips up, he teased the tip of his cock with his wet and open hole. 

“You want this?” he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt the tip slip inside of him. 

“Fuck,” Draco grunted, sliding into Harry until he bottomed out. “Better than I imagined.”

“You think of me?” Harry asked, moving his hips against Draco. 

“Every time,” Draco breathed, moving his elbows to rest on either side of Harry’s head as he began thrusting his hips. Harry gripped the headboard behind him and raised his hips to meet each thrust, his legs wrapped tight around Draco’s hips. 

Draco rose to his knees, pushing the backs of Harry’s thighs into the bed. “You look so good like this,” he moaned, as he stared down to where their bodies were joined. As Harry began to reach down to touch himself, Draco took hold of his wrist and held it down at his side. 

“Do you think you could come untouched, baby?” 

Harry nodded as he moaned, his body already feeling ready to ignite. He ran a hand up and down Draco’s torso, flushed and slick with sweat. 

“Wanna ride you,” he breathed, his voice sounding desperate. 

Draco pulled out and collapsed onto his back. Harry reached for his wand to recast the preparation charm, gasping as he felt his hole become even slicker. He slowly slid down the length of Draco’s cock until he was fully seated, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure. 

He began rolling his hips in slow figure-eights, relishing the growing pool of heat each time Draco brushed against his prostate. Draco’s thumbs grasped tightly at Harry’s hips as he began to thrust upwards. 

“Shit, holy fuck…” Harry moaned, no longer aware of what he was saying. He could feel his own cock slap against his stomach as he bounced on Draco’s cock. As his hands grasped at the air around him in search for something to ground him, he ended up tugging at his own hair, groaning at the slight pain. 

“C’mere,” Draco whispered, pulling Harry’s closer to him. Harry’s hands fell to the headboard, as he continued to grind against Draco. With his feet planted firmly on the bed, Draco began to fuck him at a furious pace. He grabbed at Harry’s hair, pulling his face towards his. 

“Wanna make you come,” he breathed, kissing him sloppily. He slipped his thumb into Harry’s mouth. As he began to lick up the length of his finger, Harry’s orgasm washed over him. Draco’s fingers dug into Harry’s hips as his thrusts became erratic, and shouting Harry’s name, his body seized in ecstasy. 

Harry fell onto Draco’s chest, burying his face in his neck. “Whoa,” he mumbled, his jaw lolling open. 

“I have... no words…” Draco breathed, running his fingers up and down Harry’s spine. 

Harry climbed off of Draco and settled next to him, his arms wrapped around Draco’s waist. Draco reached for Harry’s hand and kissed it. 

“You’re sweeter than you let on, you know,” Harry said quietly, letting himself kiss Draco’s cheek. 

“Tell anyone, and I’ll hex you,” Draco threatened weakly as he caught his breath. He smiled, soft-gazed and dimpled, when Harry rolled his eyes. 

Harry pulled the sheet over their bodies before pulling Draco flush against him. Kissing the back of Draco’s shoulder and neck, he began to laugh. 

“Do you often tend to make yourself laugh, Potter?” Draco asked, though Harry could feel him begin to laugh too. 

“No, it’s just-” Harry began. “D’you know how they say, ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’?”

Draco’s shoulders stiffened as he responded. “Yes, and?”

“This is one thing I don’t want to leave behind,” Harry replied, quietly. “Who knew I’d leave London a single man and return from Blaise Zabini’s bachelor party, married to Draco Malfoy?” 

Draco flipped over so that their noses nearly touched. “I always knew,” he mumbled. “It was always you.” 

Harry felt a warmth bloom in his chest, and, hooking his leg over Draco’s hip, pulled him even closer. “Why’d you wait ‘til now?”

Draco smiled against his shoulder, and Harry took a mental snapshot of his shy smile. He wondered how he got to be the one to see it. 

“I guess I was feeling lucky,” Draco grinned.


End file.
